Jazz and Hip Hop
by L'ange Dans L'enfer
Summary: Set during HSM2, slight Chad/Ryan. After Chad and Troy's fight, Chad tries to gather his thoughts and get a hold of Ryan. Chad's POV. Rated K just in case.


**Author's Notes:** I wrote this fic using the prompt **phone tag** from a livejournal community. It's set during HSM2, the day that Chad and Troy have their fight. In the movie they fight in the morning then show Troy and Sharpay rehearsing in the evening. So this follows Chad in that gap.

This is really _really_ long. I've never written such a long one-shot before, and I didn't even mean for it to be this long! I just started writing one day and the next think I knew it was five pages long. Also, it's very different from what I've written and un-betaed so I'm very nervous about it. It's in first person, something I never do, and I'm not sure the tenses are right, but it sounded right as I re-read it. Chad also might be a bit OOC, but I was just in the zone when I wrote it. So please, be gentle!

**Disclaimer:** If I owned either Ryan or Chad do you think I would be wasting my time writing fics? I think not! Disney owns them and I am making no money off this.

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_I don't answer to you!_

_Well, maybe you should start answering to yourself._

"Excuse me, young man?"

I looked down at a woman's whose name I should know by now but never bothered remembering. She held out her plate of untouched food with the air of a person who was just offered a platter of road kill.

"I ordered a fillet mignon, medium rare, with asparagus and new potatoes!" She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows as though I were to give a damn about her lunch order.

"…So?" I asked dully. I could hear Fulton's voice in my ear, sputtering his way through firing me. The lady's pale face (which looked a lot like a sick horse) blossomed with red splotches of anger.

"So? So?" This woman could give Sharpay a run for her money in the shrill department. "This is a pork chop with carrots and mashed potatoes! I demand you fix your unforgivable error at once."

I barely managed to not roll my eyes and glanced at the clock. Shift over! After…earlier, Brad had offered to take over my shift after my lunch break. Thank the Lord for people poorer than me who needed to voluntarily take on other shifts.

"Lady," I said as I pulled off my apron. "It's food, eat it." Ignoring her indignant squeaks and calls for management, I stalked my way back to the kitchen. I burst through the double doors and the entire staff stopped and looked at me as though I had pressed the pause button on a DVD. I angrily swiped my card and all but sprinted into the New Mexico sunshine.

A slight breeze ruffled my hair and I took a deep breath as I pounded along a deserted sidewalk. Even though I didn't have to work, both my parents did and couldn't come get me until tonight. I'm sure if I asked, one of my other friends fortunate enough to have a set of wheels would have sacrificed their lunch break to get me as far away from…

I couldn't get his hurt blue eyes out of my mind or the anger that overtook me as he tried to backpedal and make excuses. How dare he think that he deserved special treatment?

…_.if I was as good as you?_

_I did not say that._

_You didn't have to!_

_And neither did you!_

I angrily shoved my hands into my pockets, slamming my knuckles against my cell phone. Something else brushed against my fingertips and I pulled both objects from the depths of my week-worn jeans. I stared in confusion at the small piece of paper with a number scrawled across in neat handwriting. Ryan.

After yesterday's game the two of us chatted for a while and walked back to the main building together once the girls had sped away in Taylor's golf cart. A blush heated my face as I remembered telling Ryan that the game was the best time I had had in a while, nervous that he would laugh or use it against me later. Instead he grinned, sending strange sparks through my nerves, and I knew he understood what I really meant. I wasn't the only one being left behind as Sharpay clawed her way to Troy's side.

He walked me to my car (my dad let me drive it just that once), teasing me about making me do ballroom dancing. Just before I left he pulled out a folded up piece of paper, tore the corner and asked for a pen.

Bewildered, I fished around my dad's glove compartment, succeeding in finding a bright green one that promoted Al's Tire Service. He quickly scribbled something on the paper and shoved it into my hand.

"If you need to talk to someone, someone not Taylor," he added with a knowing smirk. "Call me." I think I nodded or smiled, and he touched the tip of his hat (we switched back after dinner) and walked away.

Now I stood on the bridge, staring at the gushing fountain in the man-made pond, searching its spray for answers. Should I call him or was he busy? What did he do all day? What if he was in yoga or something and I interrupt his whole class and he gets mad at me? When did worry about calling a friend?

Shaking my head I resolutely punched the numbers into my beat up phone and walked away from the loud water in order to hear the static-filled reception. My heart sunk oddly with every unanswered ring. I really wanted to talk to him, now that I set my mind on it, and yet I hoped I could just leave him a message.

"Hey, it's Ryan. I'm clearly doing something more important because I'm not answering my phone!" I snorted at his attempt of humor. "Leave me a message and I'll call you back." I could just imagine his perky smile.

"Hey Evans," I said a bit shakily after the rather loud beep. "I'm taking you up on your offer from last night. I'm free until the end of my shift. It's a long story, just give me a call when you get this." I rattled off my cell number, fumbled through a goodbye and quickly shut my phone. Now all I had to do was wait.

I didn't want to go back to the kitchen, or any place I might run into Troy (or any of the gang for that matter) and somehow found a hill just beyond the golf course. I spread out on the warm grass and closed my eyes, letting the warm wind calm my thoughts.

I opened my eyes slowly to a strange sensation. My brain, sluggish from my nap, took a moment to connect the feeling with the buzzing of my cell phone in my pocket. I sat up, noticing the shadows of the leaves on the tree I had settled under had moved, putting me in partial shade.

I dug out my phone and listened to the two unheard voicemails in my inbox. The first, from Taylor, I nearly skipped but I hadn't talked to her all day and she deserved better.

"Hey hun, it's Taylor. It's about…one o'clock and I can't find you anywhere! Brad told me he took over your shift, but I know you're still here somewhere. Call me."

I don't think I could see my life without Taylor. She's my best friend; usually only second to Troy but today's fight pushed her to the top. At the after-party for both the championships and the scholastic decathlon last year we clicked, but felt no sparks.

She and I had never really talked about our relationship excepting the night she asked me if I thought of her in that way and I had no choice but to come out to her. I don't really like to label myself as gay, but I know I'm not straight. It's hard to explain. I find men more attractive than women, I've known that since seventh grade when found myself wanting to make out with the star quarterback instead of the head cheerleader, but I hate putting myself in that "gay" category.

Ryan's voice caught my attention and I leaned back into the grass to listen to his voicemail.

"Hey _Danforth_ it's Ryan. I can guess what you need to dish about, I ran into Gabriella just now. Oh, and kudos for pissing off Ms. Landers, she's the biggest pain in the entire place!" Chad chuckled. "I don't know when the end of your shift is, but I'm here 24/7 so call me or come to my room. Cabin 2."

I closed my phone thoughtfully, deciding my next moves carefully. I couldn't just go over to his room, that would be weird and my mother taught me to always call before visiting. Troy always teased me about it.

I ignored the tug at my gut at the thought of my basketball captain and opened my phone again. I picked at the duct tape keeping the hinges from breaking apart before dialing Ryan's number again. I made a note to add it to my phonebook. His cheerful voice filled my ear again, just before the annoying beep.

"Seriously man? Are we gonna have to start a game of phone tag?" I laughed at my own nerdiness. "It's about…quarter to two, I think, and I'm on this hill just beyond the golf course if you want to meet me here. Or just give me a call and we can hang out at your place or something. Yeah…so…talk to you later."

I hung up the phone, shaking off the nerves that I always get when calling someone. I could never explain it, but talking on the phone always made me uncomfortable. I preferred talking to them face-to-face or online or something.

Stretching, I stood and wandered back toward the main complex. My throat screamed for a drink and I realized I hadn't eaten lunch yet. Luckily I had snagged something from the kitchen this morning, knowing I would need a snack (I'm a growing teen after all) and stuffed it in my locker.

To some stroke of luck I made it to my locker without anyone stopping me or shooting me sympathetic glances. Instead of the croissant and fruit cup I had grabbed, I found a brown bag with Taylor's precise handwriting on its crinkled front.

_Thought you might get hungry. Call me._

I smiled at her kindness and took the packed lunch back to my secluded spot. I leaned against the rough bark of the palm tree and sighed. I tried to keep my thoughts blank, because every time Troy popped into my mind, my food caught in my throat and I felt as though I would throw up Taylor's carefully planned surprise.

I closed my eyes again, thinking instead of Ryan and the baseball game. I hadn't played since the season ended last spring, but never on the Wildcat's diamond had I felt that exhilarated.

I wasn't stupid enough to think it had nothing to do with Ryan's smug attitude, his bright smile or his talent. I couldn't deny that I might be falling for him. Or, at the very least I wanted to get to know him more. I'd never been in a relationship, but I knew this desire to see him (which justified me checking my cell every minute to see if he called) was more that friendly. That and I couldn't keep my eyes from him yesterday; the lines of his lean body as he ran, jumped and even pirouetted through the slightly tense baseball came.

A strange noise filtered through my thoughts and I barely realized it was my default ring tone, the one the phone came with, the one that rang for unfamiliar numbers. My hands, greasy from the bag of potato chips made me fumble too long and I just managed to see Ryan's number before it blinked "One Missed Call."

I hesitated, unsure if I should wait for him to call again, leave a voicemail or just call him. The decision was made for me when my phone began buzzing again. I quickly called my voicemail.

"I, Ryan Matthew Evans, officially declare this a game of phone tag. You're it!" I laughed out loud, my voice echoing against the surrounding red mountains.

When I reached his voicemail, I could barely talk I was laughing so hard. "Seriously, man? Fine, you are so on. You're it!" Since when did I giggle?

I finished my lunch in anticipation. When he didn't call, I pushed down my disappointment and decided to call Taylor. She organized everything, maybe she knew where Ryan was. Plus, she would start a manhunt if I didn't call her soon.

"Finally!" She cried after one ring. "Where have you been, I've been looking all over for you."

"Sorry," I said sheepishly. I could just see her face split between concern and annoyance. "I just needed some time to myself, you know?"

"I know honey." Her voice softened. "If you need me, I'm here."

"Thanks. And thanks for the lunch."

"Never say I don't know you, Chad Danforth. If there's one thing you can't go without, it's food." We both laughed.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Ryan is, do you?" I asked once we calmed down. I heard papers shuffle and could imagine her rifling through her new best friend: her clipboard.

"He's not signed up for anything right now. I thought I saw him heading for the dance studios about ten minutes ago."

"Oh." I tried to keep the disappointment from my voice. Now I definitely couldn't talk to him, unless I wanted to die. No one interrupts an Evans while in rehearsal. I learned that the hard way when I tried to steal Troy away from a Tinkle Towne practice early.

"Chad, are you okay?" I knew she didn't mean the whole business with Troy, that would have been a stupid question to ask, especially from her.

"Yeah, I just--" For some reason I couldn't tell her how much I wanted to see Ryan, how I knew he was the only person who would understand all this anger and hurt inside me. "It's been a long day." She didn't say anything and I sighed. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay." She sounded very resigned.

"Hey, Taylor? Thanks, for everything."

"I'm always here for you Chad."

I blew out a breath as I once again considered my choices. I could go back to my hill and mope or I could just suck it up and go talk to Ryan. He seemed to brush off the whole losing the game thing pretty well yesterday, so he probably wouldn't be that upset if I interrupted his rehearsal.

I took my time walking over to the performing arts building that housed the theatre and the practice halls and such, glancing over at the basketball courts as I passed. I thought I heard Troy's groan following a missed basket, but quickly looked away and sped up my pace so I didn't risk seeing him.

_If I don't know who you are these days, then who does?_

Heavy bass and sharp brass grew louder the farther I walked down the long hall lined with dance studios. All but one set of doors sat open, welcoming any who wish to dance. Or boost their ego by just staring at themselves in very large mirrors.

Slowly I peered into the small windows of the closed doors and had to tell myself to breathe as I stared at Ryan's body and its seemingly effortless fluid movements. Seriously, no one can out-dance him.

Wiping my sweaty hands on my pants I absently noted that I actually knew this song. I couldn't remember the title but Ryan showed us all swing moves last night to it and I would always remember this song and the grin that never left his face. As I walked in, closing the door softly behind me so I wouldn't startle him, I thought that with the right beat they could pump this song into any dance club in the country.

We were like music, he and I. It was a random thought, but sometimes I have sort of profound moments like that and I've learned to go with them. Ryan is like big band swing type of jazz music: bright, energetic yet an acquired taste that too many people pass over because it's "not popular." And I guess I am like hip-hop: heavy, contemporary, and yet always able to surprise you with a hit. Put the to together and you get a completely new sound.

The song ended and I took the short silent interval to make myself known. Ryan still hadn't noticed me, he kept his eyes closed as if he were savoring the last notes of the music. Slowly I approached him and I lightly tapped him on the shoulder.

"You're it."

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Please review! Also, I'm considering a sequel of sorts, but only if people want to read more, so let me know what you think!


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